No Stranger Would It Seem
by harrypottergleek
Summary: Based on the board game, Clue, fifteen guests from around the country come to the mansion of one Billionaire William Schuester, who is mysteriously murdered not an hour after their arrival. Each chapter, this story follows a different character. When everything goes wrong, the guests agree to lock themselves in the house. Klaine and Faberry a liiittle bit of a fapezberry triangle
1. Chapter 1

**No Stranger Would It Seem**

**Chapter One**

**A Glee fic based on the board game Clue.**

The train rustled beneath fifteen passengers as they made their way toward the secluded island in Maine. The island was lonely and silent, beside a mansion belonging to Billionaire, William Schuester. Everyone on this train has a reason to be there, a close relation with Mr. Schuester. And all of them have their motives.

_Quinn Fabray_

The blonde girl in the far left corner of the train tucks her invitation away after scanning it over with her eyes a few more times. Nowhere did it say that anyone else was coming to his mansion, and it most definitely didn't say that _he_ was coming.

Quinn looked up at a boy across from her, with a mohawk that made him look simple unintelligent, though really; she was in no place to judge him for that. There was a certain fire in her eyes when she looked up at him, the man already turning to flirt with the small brunette Jewish looking girl right next to him. Noah Puckerman, _that's_ what his name was.

These two had encountered each other many years previous to this. Quinn was seventeen, and it was just a one night stand, the boy running out immediately. He had no idea that this encounter conceived a child. In fact, she had promised that child to the first wife of Mister Schuester, but when the time came, she gave it to another woman, a kinder and saner one by the name of Shelby Corcoran.

Quinn had always seemed like an angel to everyone around her, pure and white and breathtakingly beautiful. And she always acted the part, but she had a craving for her dark side that just couldn't be ignored. She wanted to be noticed for something other than the nice, virtuous, clean girl who smiled and waved to the neighbors every day.

She moved to New York when she was eighteen, telling her mother that she was working on going to college there when really, she was falling deep into prostitution, and a simple job as a waitress on the side. In fact, she was under the impression that she was here to do business with Mr. Schuester. And it wasn't serving him food.

Quinn looked around at the passengers in near disgust. On the other side of the train on the far right, there sat a boy with golden curls, his legs crossed as he straightened out his black suit and glanced out the window. His arrogant sort of manner seemed to spread through the air. He had a briefcase with the name 'St. James' inscribed in it.

Beside him was a Latina girl, her lips pursed and her long legs crossed, showing off her sinfully short bandage dress. She occasionally turned her head to wince at the man- more like child- lying next to her. He was obnoxiously tall and basically the high school quarterback stereotype. And right next to the child there was an elegant twenty-something, pretending not to know him, however from the way he talked they clearly knew each other, maybe they were even related. The more elegant man, with the chestnut hair and the bright glasz eyes kept stealing glances over to the curly haired boy across from him, close to Quinn herself. He seemed to know more of these people than he should have because the sweet looking curly-haired boy kept looking up at him, too, a small smile playing at both lips as they caught each other glancing every so often.

Two Asians sat close to each other, holding hands as they separated themselves from the other thirteen.

Closest to them sat a boy who looked frighteningly like a younger Noah Puckerman, with that stupid smug grin as he looked around, looking upon the others as outcasts, pretending to be badass and pretending to understand everything. At least, that was how Quinn saw it. She peered over her newspaper to see a tall, skinny brunette girl wearing a Newsies cap blushing as he stared at her.

Then there was the dumb blonde girl giggling next to the dumb blonde guy who was working various celebrity impressions and laughing along with her musical giggle in a strange harmony. But the way she was looking at the Latina suggested she didn't play for his team.

And then there was the man completely secluded, with what looked like an actually permanent and obnoxious smirk on his face, the only thing more obnoxious than that being his hair. He looked between the elegant boy and the sweeter looking one, the first of the pair oblivious and the second shifting uncomfortably when he felt his gaze.

Quinn let out a weak sigh at the group of misfits she had been placed with, stuck with for the next few days. She enjoyed solitude quite a lot. It was why she worked alone for a good amount of the time she was ever working.

It was a good half an hour more of studying glances and people in general that the train slowed down to a halt at a small station right outside Schuester's mansion. They all seemed to get up at the same time, looking around at each other silently. The Asian man had his arms protectively around his girlfriend, and the adorable curly haired boy brushed his hand 'accidentally' against the elegant twenty-something's, making Quinn smirk to herself.

They walk slowly off the train, watching each other in confusion as they head toward the entrance of the mansion. The smirky bastard was the first to push the large doors open and walk in, as the big wooden door did have a sign on it that said 'make yourselves feel at home. Come on in. let's get to know each other', that just made her groan to herself as it seemed most guests were alright with obeying.

Most guests seemed to know each other already.

She looked around the mansion in awe, her green eyes wide with wonder at the gigantic area that some lucky white man got to wake up to and call home every day. It was just him and his butler, anyway. His first wife, Terri, faked being pregnant and then was found out about and divorced by William when Quinn refused to give her the baby she conceived with Noah. William's second wife just didn't want to be all locked up on this island in a mansion anymore, even if it did have in it everything she ever wanted. She wanted to 'see the world' or some bullshit. However, Quinn thought to herself, she wouldn't mind doing business here long-term at all. And once again, she was not referring to preparing food.

The Butler was the first that the group ran into, a rather sexy man about their age with the most _unbelievable_ arms Quinn had ever seen. He smiled charmingly as he introduced himself, extending a hand to the small Jewish girl, who was most definitely staring. "I'm Brody Weston." He introduced with a nod as he gestured for the group to follow him.

"Mister Shuester will be joining you for dinner, but meanwhile, you may all take a seat in the dining room and help yourselves." Mr. Weston nodded, opening the doors to the grand dining room. The walls and ceiling were a pearly white, outlined with gold, paintings decorating the walls. The table had just enough chairs but barely any eating space for each guest with the feast laid out in front of them.

Bowls of fruits, fancy cheeses, loafs upon loafs of different breads, steaks, salads, etc. It was fit for a king. For a lonely, sad, secluded king who apparently had a lot of… young, very, very young friends.

The group sat in basically the same way they had on the train. Quinn just decided to refer to them as their descriptions from this point on, since she had no desire to learn anything further about any of these people. Elegant, dorky and/or sweet, Newsies cap, Jewish girl, smirky bastard, arrogant, Asian, other Asian, Latina, dumb blonde, dumb blonde who thinks he's good at impressions, Noah Puckerman, younger Noah Puckerman, man-child-dinosaur… yeah. It was a pretty good list.

It was Arrogant who spoke up first, with a grin on his lips as he spread some butter on a piece of bread and suggested an ice-breaker. "I think we were all under the impression we would be coming here alone. I was wondering what your relationships to Mr. William Schuester are." He stated plainly. "I say we all go around." He said, giving a 'reassuring' smile as he began. "I'm from Kansas. Topeka. I met William at a very young age. My mother had a thing for him." He remembered with a chuckle, then looking to the girl beside him. "Forgive me when I say I'm not exactly comfortable giving my name."

Latina spoke up. "I'm not going to lie to you; like I'm sure all of you will to me." She started with a bitch smirk. "I'm a con artist from Miami. I'm very sure Mr. Schuester only invited me here because he wants his million dollar broach back." She said, with a satisfied laugh as she sat back down in a sickeningly confident manner.

The boy beside her – Man-Child-Dinosaur -swallowed thickly as he waved to the others, most of them with numb expressions as he made that weird face that looked like a child who needed to go potty. "He was kind of my mentor a few years back. 'M from Ohio."

Elegant bit his lip down gently, shaking his head for a moment before sighing. "His second wife, Emma, was my therapist for a few years. We've talked a couple times. I'm from New York, the city of course, lower east side. I'm a writer." His features hinted at a sort of shame, though aside from that, he was rather discreet.

Dorky Hobbit was next up, raising his hand. "I was a student teacher a couple years ago. I worked alongside Mister Shuester at a private school he worked at for a year only before retiring here. I'm also from New York," He said, catching the attention of Elegant rather quickly. "I work in Saratoga as a first grade teacher."

Other Asian stood up next with a smile, presenting herself proudly. "I'm from Arizona. I'm a doctor," She started, though her expression quickly became serious. "I was assigned to the surgery of Mr. Schuester's first wife, Terri, and it was a very risky procedure. We talked a lot. He told me that his wife Emma had been back home, and had also had a surgery, also by a man named Doctor Chang, which is my last name as well." She smiled down to Asian, who smiled back.

Little did Quinn know, those smiles were so very fake.

Asian stood next, still smiling at Other Asian, though. "Hiya. I'm Doctor Chang number two. She's my better half." He said, with a false laugh. "I always wanted to be a dancer, but clearly that never happened. And I'm glad, because I probably wouldn't have met Tina if I was. I worked on a surgery for Will's second wife in my little business in Maine."

Noah stood up lazily from his seat, rolling his eyes, which were half shut as he spoke. "I'm from Chicago." He started, thinking of what to say for a moment, and deciding to put it very simply as he sat down again. "Basically… don't get involved with me."

That caused a few curious faces to evolve to confusion.

Newsies Cap steered whale watching tours in Maine, and barely knew the man.

Mini Noah Puckerman worked at one in a chain of music stores Will owned, one in Washington.

Smirky Bastard worked as a barista in Saratoga as well- Quinn was assuming this was only so he would be closer to Dorky Hobbit, who seemed uncomfortable with him. Schue had confronted him and got him expelled from school. He was under the impression the man would apologize for what he gave away.

Dumb Blonde was next. Terri was her pageant coach. She was from Michigan.

Dumb Blonde Who Thinks He's good at Impressions introduced himself as a professional comedian from Nebraska.

Jewish drew patterns in the table with her fingertips as she answered just as lazily as Noah, still watching Mr. Weston from afar. "I'm from New York City; an actress. William Schuester was my vocal coach."

Latina giggled, "And how did he train you to hit those high notes?" she asked, everyone in the room glancing back at her, wide-eyed. She folded her arms across her chest, giggling again and giving a small shrug, a couple people biting their tongues to keep from laughing along, Jewish simply ignoring her.

When Quinn's turn came around, she simply shook her head. "I think I'll pass."

The others nodded, and for a while the room was silent aside from the noise the guests made as they loaded food from the feast onto their plates. Mr. Weston came in, slightly pale as he spoke softly. "It appears Mister Schuester will be late for dinner. He's asked all of you to disband from the dining room and get comfortable in the house while he takes care of some business." He reported.

"Wanky." Latina whispered.

The guests slowly, and almost one by one, left the dining room, some in groups, and some off by themselves, Asians together as always. Quinn stepped away toward the silver doors with a plaque on them titled 'theater'. Yes, she could find a way to be entertained in there. She groaned under her breath when she felt someone tapping her shoulder gently.

Quinn turned around, his eyes widening slightly when she _really_ saw Jewish for the first time, her eyes dancing and her hair begging for Quinn to brush it out of her face. So _that _was why every guy in the house besides Asian was looking at her the way they were. "Hey." She said, almost sweetly. "I was wandering if you would mind walking with me. My name is Rachel, by the way." She nodded, with a small shrug.

And Quinn hated, no, she despised the way Rachel reminded her of herself when she was still an angel. She hated the way this girl made her feel just by looking straight into her eyes. "No thanks." Quinn mumbled simply as she entered the theater, the girl confused behind her as she shrugged and just followed Quinn anyway. Oh, how the blonde would miss only knowing her as 'Jewish'.

Quinn headed down all the rows, climbing onto the stage and looking around, groaning as Rachel stepped beside her. "Why are you here?" She asked.

Rachel smiled as she answered, sitting down at the piano bench. "You look like you need someone to cheer you up. You sound lonely. Didn't even let them hear your reason for being here." She listed as she began to play lightly.

"I enjoy solitude."

"That's unnatural."

Quinn rolled her eyes, glancing at the rows of seats as she heard Rachel play just gently, the chords she recognized oh so very well. "_Sing_." Rachel instructed simply. Quinn shook her head. That was absolutely ridiculous, a prostitute singing about the feelings she wasn't sure if she had.

Rachel shook her head right back. "No. I'm not giving up that easily. Just sing one song, just in front of me. When was the last time you had a song in your heart?" Rachel prodded, and, with a small smile as Quinn gave in with a sigh of defeat, staring out at the rest of the theater, she played the chords again.

She closed her eyes as she heard her entrance, Rachel already starting her backup vocals, which she found to be rather sweet. "_Looking out from underneath, refracted moonlight on the sea, reflections still look the same to me…"_ With that, she looked back to Rachel, who had a smile against her lips as she played with her eyes fluttered shut, unaware that the corners of Quinn's lips had twisted into a smile, "_As before I went under_."

Quinn relaxed slightly, hearing Rachel's 'ooh's in the background, continuing to sing and hating herself for it and hating herself because she just loved how right it felt. "_And it's peaceful in the deep. Cathedral where you cannot… breathe, no need to pray, no need to speak…_" She breathed, "_And now I am under, oh." _Rachel began harmonizing straight up with the words, making Quinn gasp a little as their voices melted together. "_And it's breaking over me, a thousand miles down to the sea bed; I found a place to rest my head_."

Suddenly, as Rachel sang 'never let me go, never let me go' over and over, Quinn turned away from the theater seats to face the small girl. "_And the arms of the ocean are carrying me, and all this devotion was rushing out of me_." She belted loudly, a hand clapped over her heart, which was pounding as she sang the notes she wasn't used to, "_And the crashes are heaven for a sinner like me. But the arms of the ocean deliver me…" _

And now Rachel was looking back at her, taking advantage of every breath and smiling uncontrollably. "_Though the pressure's hard to take, it's the only way I can escape, it seems a heavy choice to make… but now I am under, oh… and It's breaking over me… a thousand miles down to the sea bed, I found a place to rest my head_." She sang, preparing for more belting as Rachel sang with all of her heart, which threw Quinn off, but only slightly.

"_Never let me go, never let me go._ " Rachel sang, tears appearing in her eyes. "_Never let me go, never let me go_!" The last note climbed half an octave from where it normally was in the song, Quinn closing her eyes as she sang with all she was as well. "_And the arms of the ocean are carrying me… and all this devotion was rushing over me… and the crashes are heaven, for a sinner like me, and the arms of the ocean deliver me_." All while she was singing, Rachel was continuing her harmonies of 'never let me go', the two almost competing to be the most powerful.

They sang together again, "_And it's over, and I'm… I'm going under. But I'm not giving up; I'm just… giving in…" _Quinn closed her eyes, and faced the theater seats again as Rachel sang gently behind her, the soprano of "_oh, slipping underneath, so cold but so sweet_…"

"_And the arms of the ocean, so sweet and so cold, and all this devotion I never knew at all. And the crashes are heaven, for a sinner released, and the arms of the ocean_…" Quinn let the last note fade against the silence between the two girls as they panted, and the blonde turned to face Rachel, nodding kindly before she suddenly heard a scream, a man's scream… like a _dying_ man's scream.

With a last, almost apologetic glance at the small brunette girl, she ran out of the theater to go find the source of the screaming, or at least the other guests. Rachel followed shortly behind.

Before she knew it, Arms- well, Brody- had approached them with his small, collected group of guests. "You all stay here; I will find the others and see what's happened to Mister Schuester." He instructed, making the blonde girl roll her eyes as, yes, she was now here with Noah, who had, yes, returned to flirting with Rachel.

Every guest came back one by one, half of the group together, and shortly following them, a very pale Brody Weston came back, next to Mike Chang, who was equally as pale and frightened.

"Mister William Schuester is dead as of seven twenty three this evening. Murdered. One of you has made a very bad mistake, and we're not leaving until we find out which one."

There was a resounding chorus of whimpers and groans and gasps and a mix of all three coming from a few guests. Dorky Hobbit choked on a sob as he clapped a hand over his mouth. Elegant rested a hand on his shoulder, looking down at the ground with tears in his eyes. Rachel wept as she held on to Noah, who had his eyes shut. Latina bit her lip and held herself. Man-child-dinosaur tried to put on a brave face, though he really looked angry… Quinn could go on. The only words ringing out through the empty silence were the haunting echoes of 'Mister William Schuester is dead.'


	2. Chapter 2

**No Stranger Would It Seem || Ch. 2**

_Blaine Anderson_

Mr. Weston's words filled the room all too quickly. Blaine clapped a hand over his mouth as he let out a choked sob, feeling the hand of the boy next to him rested soothingly on his shoulder- Kurt, if he remembered correctly. They had briefly met before.

When he opened his eyes again, he looked around at the guests, who all seemed sad. One of them was acting, and that was what sickened him at first. He was already coming up with a list of suspects in his head. The Latina girl was terrifying. The doctor was too quiet. Sebastian… Sebastian was just an asshole. The actress seemed crazy, like she knew too much. The guy with the briefcase didn't even look _that_ sad.

Brody ran off to start locking all the doors and windows when the weak questioning started. Kurt stepped in front of the guy with the briefcase. "You. You didn't want to let anyone know your name; doesn't that seem a little suspicious?" He asked.

The man just shook his curly head. "It would seem so, but I assure you it's nothing at all."

"Tell us your name then." Kurt prodded, stepping closer to the man, unaware of the small smile that tugged at the corners of Blaine's lips. He had a certain fire in his eyes that scared the man he was addressing. "If you're so sure that it's not going to bite you in the ass." He smirked wickedly.

The really tall boy stepped forward to try to pull Kurt back, but he just shrugged it off.

"I don't believe any of us want to say our names." The man with the briefcase said, strangely calm as Kurt glared at him. He folded his arms across his chest, stepping forward slightly. "I propose we go by aliases in the house. I don't trust any of you. And I'm assuming none of you trust me."

"You assume correctly." Kurt said back to him backing away from the man with the briefcase.

He nodded. "Yes, then… I'll go by… Sir Violet, I think." He decided with another nod, making a few groan as he referred to himself as so, and a proud sort of smirk against his lips. Kurt was next. When he changed his name when he moved to New York, it was from Kurt Hummel to William Green, the name a mix of mister Schuester and his favorite author when he was younger.

"Fine. I'll take Mister Green." Perfectly reasonable. He looked behind him for more volunteers and Blaine waved, making Kurt's smirk grow proudly.

"Professor Plum." Blaine said, with a goofy grin and a chuckle, a few others laughing behind him and Kurt's- oh, _Mister Green's_- smile genuine and definitely noticeable.

They went around one by one. Sebastian had chosen Sergeant Gold, no surprise to him. The boy with the mohawk chose Sergeant Owl without hesitance right after him, with a glare in his direction. The pretty blonde girl- the one who had refused to speak earlier- seemed a little cheerier as she said 'Miss White', shortly followed by the Latina's 'Lady Raven'. The really tall boy smiled to himself as he mumbled 'Colonel Mustard', and looked over to the blonde boy beside him, who simply shrugged and went with Mister Brown. The taller, skinny brunette girl chose Madame Rose while the shorter brunette close to her nodded and smiled devilishly when she chose Miss Scarlet.

The male Asian doctor chose Mister Black, while the female took Miss Peacock. The younger looking version of the boy with the mohawk looked to the tall brunette with a wink when he picked 'Mister Gray'. The last one to choose a name was the innocent looking blonde girl, who had been giggling endlessly until the bit of news from Mister Weston. She toyed with her fingers when she whispered "Miss Daisy" with a curious sigh.

A few of them nodded. "Well, I guess we better go to our rooms and get to sleep, then... after all, it's going to be a long _long_ time we're here." Sebastian suggested, with that same smirk.

A few shook their heads. There was no way they were getting to sleep tonight.

Blaine gathered his bags up in his arms, wandering up the staircase and into the guest room he had been assigned to in the hall. They had a _guest hall_. This would so be the coolest place if his close friend and mentor hadn't just been murdered in it. He rubbed his reddened eyes as he stumbled in, nearly tripping as he dropped his stuff on the floor.

He groaned at the mess but just collapsed in a tired mess on his bed, before realizing that there was something under his ass that had settled rather uncomfortable. Maybe this wasn't his bed… he pulled it out, his eyebrows knit together as he read the title.

Blackbird by William… "Green." He thought aloud, flipping the front cover over to find the summary.

He traced his finger down the page, skipping through the copyright crap before he got to the little summary section that red, 'when an assassin, Caden Bryans, is sent to kill his the youngest son of a billionaire at a private school, Daniel Pond, he regrets every moment as he seems to fall in love with the younger boy. In a never-sent letter to the boy he ponders dearly what they could've been, while he's in New York hiding from the bad people he had gotten involved with and living on the prayer that they wouldn't find Daniel.'

Blaine paused for a moment, gasping because Kurt _remembered _him. And, this was them… in every way, even the characters had the same looks… Blaine grinned to himself. He had vaguely remembered one of his students- little Lea- telling him that it was her favorite story because her favorite character reminded her of Blaine, but… the whole thing just went over her head.

He looked on the next page, where a note from 'William Green' appeared, in green sharpie. 'Dear Mister Schuester,' it began, 'I've always wanted to write this and publish it but for reasons I cannot tell you, I'm not able to do so. There are only three copies; One with you, one with me, and one with close friends of mine from Ohio. You and Emma are really very kind, and I wish you nothing but the best –William Green.'

As Blaine heard footsteps sounding louder toward the room, he tossed the book onto the other bed and laid back in the one he had claimed, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment and praying to the god he didn't believe in that everything would be fine when the door opened. Then again, praying at all opposed to praying without belief would never be very helpful.

And then he walked in. Kurt. With his chestnut hair and his glasz eyes, skin glowing the way it always did with the fashionable clothes he wore that looked straight out of this month's Vogue tight on his slim figure. Blaine sat on the bed, suddenly aware of how foolish he looked, curls loose, only wearing a white button up and coffee colored suspenders, honey-hazel eyes sparkling with a welcome he had really wanted to hide previously, but now that he was here...

And Kurt stopped too, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips when his eyes caught Blaine's.

It was safe to say, both boys were still, somehow, completely and foolishly in love.

"Hello, Mister Green." Blaine greeted with a smitten smile, glancing over to the copy of Blackbird laying on the bed as Kurt set his things down slightly more gracefully than Blaine had, fixing the sheets of the bed up. He was just as breathtaking as when they met and Blaine couldn't help but wish with every little bit of himself that they would go right this time around.

Kurt nodded, voice quivering slightly as he looked back, "Professor." He greeted as well, eyes resting on the book cover that was still, and half opened. "Did you…?" He began.

Blaine quickly shook his head, "Oh, no." he lied, smirking to himself. "I've read it, though." He lied again. "Mr. Schuester allowed me to read his copy one day. It's a very good story, you know, tragic… I care a great deal for the characters, way more than I-"

"Blaine, _stop_." Kurt sighed as he sat down on the edge of the bed. "Forgive me when I say this, but you're being _painfully _obvious." He mumbled, throwing the copy of the book into his suitcase.

"Am I the only one of us who felt it? When you stopped me on that staircase, and our eyes met and our hands met, are you going to deny that you wrote that whole story about us? O-or pretend that you didn't spend just as long as I did dwelling over the short encounter and what might've happened had it been longer?" He questioned relentlessly.

"I will not deny any of that because if I did, I would be lying to you. But we were younger then. Younger and foolish, and…" He trailed. "I'm a bad person, don't… don't do this." He warned as he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, refusing to meet the other boy's gaze.

Blaine raised his eyebrows at the other boy as he stood up to walk over, kneeling in front of him.

"Oh, don't you raise those_ triangles_ at me!" He scolded playfully.

"You're not a bad person." He started. "I know we don't really know each other well, but I know that you are not a bad person no matter what you might've done in the past, even If you are the murderer, which I know you're _not_," Blaine smirked, and trailed back to his own bed again.

They were silent for moments, both lying in bed, staring up at the poorly painted white ceilings, Blaine still contemplating the death of one of his only friends, tugging the blanket tight around himself as he turned to weep quietly, tears uncontrollable as they ran down his cheeks. "Maybe you can catch me up sometime. It'd be real nice to have a friend again." He whispered into the empty silence.

Kurt smiled sadly to himself as he stood up and locked the doors and the windows, going back to lie on his own bed. "Go to sleep, Blaine." He whispered back, almost musically as he curled up under the covers. Because maybe, just maybe, he had been hoping they could start again, too. Even if he didn't deserve Blaine's forgiveness.

And it wasn't until he was sure, so very sure that Blaine was sleeping that he whispered "I love you."

Because no matter how despicable he was, how foolish they were, that would never, _never_ change.

Blaine was the second of the two of them in the room to wake up that day, blinking his sleepy eyes open to see Kurt doing his hair in the mirror. "Hey." He whispered, his voice thick with sleep as he did so, his curly hair a mess and the shirt of his pajamas accidentally unbuttoned since he had kept tossing and turning in the bed.

Kurt nearly jumped at the sudden voice when he turned to look at him, "Morning, sleeping beauty." He greeted with just as much enthusiasm as the other boy had given, making them both chuckle a little.

Blaine hung his head, "Why haven't you left the room?" He asked sleepily.

"That would require me leaving the room unlocked while you're sleeping in it, and no matter how terrible I might be, I would never put a friend in danger." He obliged.

Blaine grinned impossibly wide, "A friend?"

A friend who he just happened to love purely and unconditionally, "Hey, don't stretch it, Hobbit, I just trust you a little bit more than I do everyone else in the house currently. You're too innocent to be capable of murder. Honestly, d'you even have a _motive_?" He asked with a sigh.

"Oh, you would love it if I trusted you enough to tell you." Blaine teased right back.

He stood up weakly from his bed, stumbling over to the bathroom where he tamed his curls slightly, and cutting down his moisturizing routine to a reasonable time. It only took his twenty minutes this time, mind you. He came out wearing an almost illegally tight pair of jeans and a thin black and white striped long sleeve t-shirt.

With Kurt's hand clasped in his as he stood in the mirror beside him, for just a moment, he was there again; at Dalton. And he was in love with Kurt Hummel, not William Green, not Mr. Green, but Kurt.

He headed down to breakfast, surely for a long first day at the hands of a murderer. One thing was certain, if he got anyone's blood on his hands, he was not going to back to those first graders. No, they deserved so much better than that.

…

All fifteen guests had settled down at the kitchen table a few minutes later. Blaine was in between Lady Raven and Madame Rose, right across from Kurt, who he grinned at smugly whenever he caught the older boy glancing at him.

Mr. Weston entered the dining room loudly, folding his arms across his chest and throwing a vile of black liquid across the table, making Miss Scarlet yelp as it came to a full stop right in front of her, causing Miss White to stand up protectively. "What are you doing?" She hissed as she took the vile.

Mr. Weston just stood tall and strong again. "That, my friends, is poison. I found it tucked away safe in the pocket of Mr. William Schuester's suit." He explained, waltzing over to take the poison from Miss White's hands as he swooped over to make sure he didn't hurt Miss Scarlet.

"Clue number one." Lady Raven whispered, and then, they were silent again.


	3. Chapter 3

**No Stranger Would It Seem || Chapter 3**

_Rachel Berry_

The night of Will Schuester's murder, as her name suddenly became Miss Scarlet, they all parted, going upstairs to get to their separate rooms. She stole a glance at the blonde girl who she had been singing with before; a small, sad glance. Miss White. She had never known her real name.

Rachel had begun carrying her stuff up to the room when the Latina girl, who went by Lady Raven, came up next to her. "We're in a room together." She half-groaned, making Rachel sigh, "I'm having Sergeant Owl take my stuff to the room. You should get Colonel Mustard to get yours, he's all over you." She reported, with yet another half groan.

She hooked her pinky with Rachel's. "We should be allies. Or more than allies." She winked to Rachel, making her gasp slightly. "I'm kidding, Scarlet." She lied with a sigh, bumping her shoulder against the small brunette's. "I do know the way you and Miss White have been looking at each other lately. Your emotions get you out in a game like this. Sure she's gorgeous and probably sexy as hell, but just deal with it, kay?"

"I _need_ to get some sleep, which doesn't sound like what you have in mind." She prodded, turning to catch Colonel Mustard's small wave as he walked over, standing tall and offering to carry Rachel's suitcases, to which she gladly obliged.

Rachel and Lady Raven headed up the staircase together, walking to their room and allowing the boys to put their stuff at the edge of the beds before Lady Raven forced them out, locking the door behind him and turning back to Rachel with that self-satisfied, mischievous look in her eyes.

She gestured for Rachel to come over to her, and she silently obeyed.

The Latina girl whispered, "Us girls have to stay together." To which Rachel nodded eagerly.

She swallowed thickly, tongue darting out to lick her lips, biting her lower one after that, in such a way that seemed definitely intentional. The other girl smirked down at her, before leaning in, and sealing the deal as her lips ever so lightly brushed against Rachel's.

"Goodnight." She whispered, before walking back to her bed with a sway in her hips, making Rachel's breath catch as her tiny pink, lacy nightgown rode up in the back where she had been staring- not exactly accidentally. It wasn't her fault her roommate was sexy as hell.

…

Rachel lay awake in her bed that night, thinking to herself. Why was everyone in the house looking at her like they were? There was Colonel Mustard, and then that guy with the Mohawk… Sergeant Owl, she thought. And Miss White who, okay it was her fault that time, and she didn't mind it at all. She liked the way they sang to each other, but then there was Lady Raven, who had made her intentions very clear.

She didn't like labels; really, Rachel just loved who she was in love with.

And maybe she didn't even have those feelings or Miss White at all, maybe it was just that she wanted to see if she could break down the barrier she had clearly built and get her to be in love with her. Maybe Rachel only wanted to know if she had that power. Maybe in the end, her curiosity would make her wicked in the end, but it was the only thing about her that ever stayed constant.

She looked over at Lady Raven every few moments, and when she was sure she was asleep, she crawled over to her side of the bed, crouching down to un-tuck the tag of her suitcase from inside of it, reading the label that was printed in small, messy cursive. Santana Lopez.

She smirked at the name, before tucking herself in between blankets again, and falling asleep.

…

Her eyes were the first to flutter awake in the morning, almost by instinct glancing over to Santana's bed, where she lay all suggestively twisted up in the sheets. She sat up slowly, walking over to the bathroom to do her hair and makeup. "Hey, Scarlet." She heard a velvety smooth voice greet in a call from outside of the room.

Maybe she wasn't the first of them to wake up.

She was completely and effortlessly silent until suddenly Santana had entered the bathroom and pressed up against her, pinning her and squishing her front again the bathroom door, breathing against her ear. "I expect an answer when I address you, Scarlet, hear me?"

Rachel let out a loose whimper before wriggling away from a giggling Santana with widened eyes.

"I'm not going to hurt you, Bambi." She teased. Santana just sighed as she leaned back against the counter. "C'mon, I'm hot, you're hot, and there shouldn't be any objections to us getting it on. There's a murderer in this house and he could kill me or you or little Miss White any moment they wanted to, we should make the most of the life we have left." She reasoned with a shrug. "Besides, I know you want me." She added, as she brushed her hair and swayed out of the bathroom and out of the guest room completely.

Rachel was left breathless once again. And she just knew she was being completely stupid right now, but it was so hard _not_ to want Santana like that… with her skin glowing, begging to be marked and her eyes dark and her voice sexy and her hair messy and all over the place, and don't even get her started on that _body_… but it was wrong, she wanted her, but she didn't want the guilt.

She sighed a heavy sigh, slipping into a white, cherry covered dress and putting her hair back into a tight bun, her lips stained a bright shade of red. As she had finished getting ready, she walked down the staircase carefully in her four-inch heels. If there was one thing she refused to do, she wasn't dying in a mystery murder house by falling down as marble staircase.

She sat next to Miss White at the edge of the dining room table, picking at a vine of grapes and allowing herself to drink in the angelic sight before her, Miss White, pure and pristine in her short, white dress, her silvery blonde hair in perfect curls, cascading down her shoulders. Oh god, this was getting /way/ to symbolic now, wasn't it?

She looked up at Brody when he entered the room, throwing a vial of a lethal-looking black liquid at her, to which Miss White caught and stood up almost protectively, making Rachel smile the smallest bit.

Brody announced that the liquid was found in William's suit pocket after he was murdered, and someone whispered that they had finally found their first clue.

She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, and wished that she could go back to when she was blissfully unaware that any of this would happen to any of them. She bit back a tiny yelp as she realized her fears had started an anxiety attack, leaving her whole body shaking. As she couldn't help it, she took Miss White's hand, the blonde girl looking down at their hands clasped together. "I'm frightened." Rachel whispered shakily, tears brimming her brown eyes.

Miss White sat up, turning to Rachel and squeezing her hand tight. "Hey, R- Scarlet, Scarlet, Sh. everything is going to be alright, okay? You don't need to be scared; I'm not going to let anything happen to you." She whispered, leaning in to peer deep into Rachel's gaze. There was a wordless explanation. Rachel had gotten Miss White to sing again. For that she was grateful. And never once in her days of being 'bad' had she wanted to start over more than she had for those few minutes they were singing together.

Rachel nodded. She could take care of herself. She could get out of here without anyone holding her hand. But that was not going to change the fact that she was truly and undeniably scared.

The hand that wasn't holding Quinn's remained shaking until breakfast was over.

_Santana Lopez_

Santana would be lying if she denied that she had been in competition with pretty, darling Quinn Fabray all her life. She was a slut. She was pitiful. She had potential, she blew it, and now she expected Santana to step aside all over again? Uh-uh. That's not how it worked where he was from.

Maybe it was cruel, but Scarlet had become her new project. She saw the way they were looking at each other yesterday, and she would have to be an absolute moron if she just let the opportunity slip by her.

Of course, out of the corners of her eye she caught Miss Scarlet grab Quinnie's hand in a near desperate manner, as her breath quickened. Santana's eyes widened slightly and she sat up, trying not to look like she cared that much even though she was obviously rather concerned for her 'friend'.

Most people hadn't noticed her little attack as she whispered to Quinn and Quinn whispered back. In fact, many had filed out of the dining room to continue on with their days when Rachel had gotten up out of her seat a little too fast, and fell right back down to the floor. Her eyes were closed. And she was… completely unconscious.

"Oh my god." Santana whispered as she shot up right out of her seat and by the brunette's ide, shaking her shoulders a little less than gently. "C-come on, Scarlet, I need you to wake up. Us girls have to stay together, right? C'mon, Scarlet." She mumbled her tone maybe a little harsh however quivering with nervousness. What if someone drugged her when she wasn't looking?

"Don't yell at her, Santana." Quinn hissed as she knelt down beside Rachel, pulling the shorter brunette into her arms and holding her close. "Check h-her heartbeat, a-and her pulse, just…. Make sure she isn't dead please?"

Santana nodded weakly, reaching down to grab Scarlet's wrist, moving her thumb around in frantic movements to find her pulse. She was never good at that, anyway, not even when she tried to find her own pulse that time. Quinn reached up to see about her heartbeat.

"I think she's alive." Quinn reported.

Santana rolled her eyes and half-groaned as she felt Scarlet's heartbeat as well, "Great work, Sherlock." She hissed back at Quinn, who very carefully slipped Scarlet back onto the floor without hurting her, the brunette making a soft 'thump' and remaining just as peaceful as she had previously.

She stood up, gesturing for Santana to come at her, lips pursed and hands on her hips. "It's really not the time for this, Lopez." She warned, pushing the Latina girl as soon as he stood up, "I know you're jealous of me and everything, but when someone's life is on the line, that's where it's time to stop."

"Yes, yes, words of wisdom from a _prostitute_." Santana hissed, pushing Quinn back.

"And would they be any better coming from a con-artist?!" Quinn shouted, the wooden doors to the dining room suddenly swinging open, a few of the guests appearing, including Brody in the front of the group. They rushed in as one of them spotted Rachel on the floor.

"You two, to the study. Now. You'll be questioned while we bring Miss Scarlet up to her room to rest." Brody announced, pushing through Quinn and Santana before scooping Scarlet into his strong arms and heading toward the doors once again. "Mr. Green." He started, with a nod toward the tall writer boy, "Be there when she wakes up." He ordered, Mr. Green just nodding and following the two.

She assumed questioning was not going to be fun.

Santana headed to the small study, which she had seen the day before while exploring the mansion and looking for items of value she could later slip into her bag. Quinn followed behind, trying to put on her best innocent girl face as he stepped into the study along with Santana, both of them taking seats by the fireside and crossing their legs out of habit.

The little dorky Harry Potter look alike- Professor Plum- sat in front of the two girls on top of the desk, the Asians, Sergeant Owl, Mr. Gray, Madame Rose, and a few other crowding around him as he looked between the two girls. He pulled out a lace glove from his pocket. "First thing's first. Does this belong to either of you?" He asked, squinting his honey-hazel eyes slightly.

"No." Quinn answered confidently, though Santana seemed hesitant in answering, biting her lip.

"…Yes." The Latina girl said, trying not to look scared.

Professor Plum nodded, grateful that at least the first suspect was one that was painfully truthful. At least it was better than someone denying everything. "And, Miss Raven, where were you at precisely 7:23 last night?" he asked, setting the vile of black poison and the glove aside on the table.

Santana was not the murderer. She would have come out and appreciated her power already if she was. And she never lied, not once. "I had just come back from changing into my nightgown and had come here, to explore a couple of rooms for reasons regarding my occupation." She answered, without hesitance. "And it's _Lady_ Raven, Professor."

"I'll address you as I shall address you." The professor shrugged a sigh on his lips as Santana stood up threateningly and folded her arms across her chest, taking a step forward that sounded through the study as her five inch heels clicked against the floor.

She laughed humorlessly. "Oh, okay, Charming, listen. I know you're mad that Brody took Ladyboy Green upstairs with him, so you can't play right now, but I deserve some fucking respect, got it?" She threatened with a certain fire in her black eyes, pushing the Professor's shoulder harshly.

The professor only stood still, sighing and turning to Quinn. "Miss White." He addressed, smirking.

…

_Rachel Berry_

Rachel woke up at exactly the wrong time. It was her first thought when her eyes fluttered open to see a boy with chestnut hair and glasz eyes, sitting on a suitcase and slapping the muscular butler across the face. She squeezed her eyes shut again before hearing a giggle coming from the younger boy in the room. "Oh, I guess it's time for you to go, asshole. Don't touch my book!" He warned, holding a hardcover book protectively as Brody left. It had a silver title scribbled out in thin, messy cursive on the cover. "Blackbird," By William… Green.

She looked up curiously at the man, a white sheet tucked around her still-shaking figure as she sat up, just as silent. "You passed out at breakfast." Mister Green informed with a half sigh, half groan. "Miss White and Lady Raven are currently being questioned in the study."

He set 'blackbird' on top of a notebook beside him, an old leather journal with the initials 'B.A.' carved into the front in a messy cursive much different from the kind on the hardcover book. "Quinn wouldn't kill someone." She said confidently, leaning back against the wall.

"These are bad people, Scarlet. Miss White isn't the virtuous virgin she likes to play." Mr. Green sighed musically, studying his hands as Rachel glanced up at him, her warm brown eyes still full of an undying and lethal curiosity.

She shook her head, "And why would you make that assumption?" She asked, stubbornly.

Mr. Green simply pulled out the leather notebook and flipped the pages around to show how full they were, of everything Blaine had known previously or logically inferred about the guests. "Professor Plum has always been foolish like that." He said, with a small smile to himself that he simply couldn't help.

"Again, you know this how?" Rachel asked.

"We met on a private school staircase. Had eyesex for ten minutes, it was great." Mister Green chuckled, almost sadly, almost like he was finding an excuse to laugh so he wouldn't go back to crying. Rachel was rather good at observing those kinds of things.

She nodded simply as he stood up, tucking the leather journal back under the pillow of one of the beds, whether it was his own or Professor Plum's she had no idea, but at least he had put it away for now. "Do you and the butler know each other?" She asked, standing up cautiously and looking at the book that Mister Green had been holding on to for dear life.

The man only chuckled, "No, no. Don't think I'm mental for guarding this book, he was just being an ass and… there are only three copies of this. I wrote it a couple years ago, and it's actually… it's rather dear to me." He nodded his voice softer now.

Rachel smiled a little to herself. "I could tell."

Honestly, Rachel had no idea why she hadn't put the puzzle pieces together before he explained it to her. Mr. Green, William Green. William Schuester and… whatever the 'green' came from. He obviously must've been very close to the man. She could be good at this whole murder mystery.

…

The two of them headed downstairs moments later, and the guests had all filed out of the study. A very silent Rachel walked to stand among the guests, finding Miss White and whispering to her. "I want you to tell me who you were before you came to the mansion." She insisted. When Miss White shook her head, she stubbornly spoke again. "Tell me or Santana will."


	4. Chapter 4

** No Stranger Would It Seem || Chapter 4**

_Kurt Hummel/William Green_

Breakfast was a blur. He remembered eating toast and enjoying some more eyesex sessions with Blaine and groaning because Scarlet was putting herself in the spotlight- that seemed to be a habit of hers. But when he had left the dining room again, Scarlet had fainted, and somewhere along, the butler had told him to be the one there when she woke up.

Since her two friends were currently being questioned for murder.

If he was a young, foolish, naïve teenager then all he would've been thinking about was the look on Blaine's face when the Butler practically dragged him upstairs, Rachel in his arms. But since he most definitely wasn't anymore, he silently obeyed, following upstairs and to his own room where Brody sat Scarlet beside his own bed.

Kurt's parents died when he was sixteen. They had been involved in a public shooting. The only two dead as they were screaming that they had to get back to their son. If the choice was there, Kurt would've been good. He would've moved in with some far off relatives right away and everything would've been okay.

But somewhere down that blurry line, Kurt had gotten involved with some bad people. He needed the money. He needed the praise. It was a rush, and it was a guilty rush, but at least he felt something. Something so much more than the hours he spent, curled up sobbing and numb from a day's worth of mourning his parents.

He was an assassin.

Suddenly he was the person who took away parents and made them numbers. He always hated himself, but never once more than that, not for a single moment.

And in a way, Blaine saved him. He fell in love with a boy who he was supposed to kill, and with the little push, he changed his name and moved away. And that boy was still alive. And maybe he could start over, if he really wanted to. Maybe the god he didn't believe in would forgive him one day.

Maybe Blaine could forgive him one day.

It was the butler who woke him from his day dream when it came time, the boy groaning as he spoke words that he was sure were pretentious, though he couldn't really hear them over his own thoughts. Blaine's leather journal sat beside him while he waited for Rachel to wake up, the copy of 'Blackbird' in his hands.

The butler snapped his fingers in front of his eyes, mumbling "Hey, princess, you missed my question." His tone rather irritated as he tugged the book right out from his hands and opened to the letter written on the inside cover in messy cursive, running away from Kurt around the room as he got up to chase him, threateningly. "Oh, isn't this sweet? This is a true story, isn't it?" He chuckled.

Kurt slid his foot out in front of the butler as he jogged around the room in an attempt not to get hurt. He fell to the floor ungracefully, making Kurt grin as he took his book back and sat back down. "Sorry, Mr. Weston, what was your question?" He asked, in the most innocent voice he could manage.

Brody picked himself up of the floor, growling under his breath slightly as he went over to stand behind Kurt again. "My question, _princess_, is why you're guarding those two books with your life." He started with an obnoxiously obvious groan. "But then, seeing as you wrote the hardcover book, those are definitely not your initials on the notebook, which begs the question _whose_ notebook, is it?"

"See the worst part about that is, when we're in a mansion of murder suspects, you actually think I'm going to tell you whose notebook this is, even if it were not mine." Kurt laughed, moving away from Brody as he perched next to him on a suitcase.

Brody laughed mockingly as well. "Which it isn't." He reminded. "It's a friend's. It belongs to someone dear to you, or you wouldn't be guarding it like you are now." He thought out loud, trying to grab at the two books again.

"Oh, aren't you a good little detective?" Kurt spat as he jerked the two books away yet again.

The butler, however, did not listen because the air in his big ass head was too copious in ratio to his actual brain. He pushed Kurt to distract him momentarily while he grabbed the books in his hands, resulting in Kurt tugging them away, and slapping the butler across the face. He looked over to the girl on the ground that had been unconscious, however her eyes were fluttering open now. "Oh, I guess it's time for you to go, asshole. Don't touch my book!"

He turned to smile charmingly at Miss Scarlet as she woke.

…

After explaining kindly to Scarlet what happened to her, what was happening to her friends, how she can't trust anyone here and that a few years previous to this he and Professor Plum had eyesex on a private school staircase for a delicious ten minutes, Kurt headed back downstairs with the girl, who had immediately taken action in confronting Miss White about the accusation.

He wandered straight back to the study, where he found Blaine nearly asleep on the couch. No one had gotten much sleep at all last night, so Kurt didn't question this. Instead, he leaned down over the arm of the couch to whisper in the other boy's ear, "Morning, sleeping beauty." The sound was a little breathy, but musical, making the sleeping boy shiver.

Blaine woke with a start, scrambling to get up as he heard a quiet voice, though sighing in slight relief when he realized it was Kurt. "Not fair." He mumbled childishly as he stood up, glancing to the two books Kurt was holding. "Why do you have my journal?" He asked, eyebrows rising to his hairline.

"Well, I was just checking out what you scribbled down before breakfast. I see you suspect Miss Scarlet, though your reasoning is far too vague…" He trailed, leaning forward in front of Blaine as the other boy stood.

Blaine chuckled almost mockingly, shaking his head and leaning forward as well, looking into Kurt's glasz eyes as he whispered, "Well, I'm sorry that I don't write everything dramatic that happens to me down in excruciating detail and publish it like someone I used to know." He smirked.

And god damn it, Kurt just wanted to lean forward, close the space between them and find that one enjoyable way to get that damn smirk off his lips. When Blaine was around him, there was no use in doubting it. He felt like a teenager again. A young, stupid, but hopelessly in love teenager who still used the word 'infinite' to describe anything but Pi. "Oh-ho, Impressive." Kurt started with a mocking giggle, dropping the journal in front of Blaine, "But you're still just as foolish as you were years ago."

"My foolishness wasn't lethal." Blaine said right back, making Kurt freeze and go pale, his face dropping as he bit his lip down softly, clearly in deep thought. Clearly, he was in deep regret. Blaine shook his head, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean th-"

Kurt cut him off, shaking his head and squeezing his eyes shut for just one blissful moment. "N-no, you're right." He confessed, his features growing sadder as the other boy took his hand. If he had loved this boy anymore, then he would've been breaking down in sobs and brilliant choruses of apology. Thankfully, and somehow, he had convinced himself not to.

"You couldn't get out of it." Blaine reasoned in a soothing tone, lacing his fingers with Kurt's hesitantly and looking against his eyes with warm honey-hazel ones, and he swore… Kurt had never seen the stars in anything but the sky, but in that moment they were incandescent in Blaine's eyes. "I forgive you." He said after a moment's pause, Kurt glancing down at the carpet and shaking his head.

He didn't deserve Blaine's forgiveness.

Blaine only rested his hand on the older boy's shoulder, and they both stayed there silent for a couple moments. "Caden Bryans and Daniel Pond, right? The characters in 'Blackbird'?" He asked quietly, sitting on the arm of the study's couch and stealing the bottle of rum from of the table, lifting it to his lips in order to take a long and relieving drink.

Kurt could tell that Blaine wasn't one to drink much at all, and he was only drowning out the day. But he couldn't let that happen. He stole the bottle from Blaine's hands again and held it in his lap, nodding at the other boy's question. "Yeah. Caden with his well styled chestnut hair and his glasz eyes hidden by sunglasses as he meets the boy he's supposed to kill. The son of a billionaire, seventeen years old and blissfully unaware, a blissful fool; Daniel Pond, who really is only described by eerily resembling every Disney prince Caden remembered." Kurt smirked, almost sadly.

Blaine frowned when the bottle was stolen from his hands, but only for a moment because the protective manner Kurt took it from him nearly made him smile. "Does Daniel die?" He asked. "Do they find each other in the end? Is Caden okay?" He asked repeatedly.

Kurt tugged Blaine closer by his bowtie, fondly rolling his eyes as he whispered, their lips almost brushing together in their proximity, "We're the only ones who will ever know how the story really ends." And he hesitated forward ever so slowly, about to capture the other boy's lips in a much deserved kiss, one that they had waited for a very long time.

But then wannabe Barbra Streisand had to come knocking on the door with that shrill giggle of hers.

Kurt fell back with a groan under his breath, and he watched as Blaine's hope disappeared, the other boy letting out a quiet sigh and silently squeezing his eyes shut, as though trying not to let it show just how much he wanted that kiss, but failing in every single possible way, making Kurt bite his lip to suppress a giggle.

"She thinks I'm her friend." Kurt sighed as he stood up, patting Blaine's shoulder and feeling the other boy relax slightly under his hand, whispering, "There's nothing to worry about. I promise."

Blaine took the bottle of rum from back off the table, earning a tiny glare from Kurt and taking a long sip as Kurt opened the door for the brunette girl. "You don't have to knock, Miss Scarlet, this is a mansion that we're all sharing." Kurt sighed, as Scarlet wandered in and perched herself on the arm of the couch, legs crossed. She gave a knowing smirk to Kurt as Blaine was there as well, thinking she was being cute.

"Well everyone deserves their privacy. Even though if you told me to go away I just would've pressed my ear to the door until I found out what was going on." She confessed.

Blaine took another couple long drinks from the rum, and it only took that until Kurt was completely done watching him drink again, and he stole the bottle from his hands with a lecture. "Professor, surely you don't think it is wise to drink with a murderer in the house. It makes you vulnerable." He scolded.

"If you say so, Mr. Green." Blaine sighed, his eyes closing as he stretched along the couch. And Kurt swore that he was doing that on purpose, because Blaine's shirt rode up just a _little_ bit and he had to tear his gaze away before he physically congratulated himself for falling in love with someone so _hot_.

Rachel didn't seem to keep it to herself, though. She looked and giggled and then looked some more and winked up to Kurt, who turned a light shade of pink and shook his head. "So… Miss Scarlet, I would love to ask why you came to find me… him… us?" He asked with a small, although fake, smile.

"I'm sure you would, darling." Scarlet sighed, tracing little patterns in the couch cushion with her fingernails, "I was actually just wandering if you wanted to meet up in the theatre later so we could talk over suspects. I need a real friend around here, y'know? Girl talk." She smirked, though Kurt only rolled his eyes again, albeit good-heartedly.

"I guess I could be alright with that plan, Miss Scarlet. I'll meet you there at eight, alright?" He asked, to which the brunette girl nodded and began on her way to go find some more friends. "Wait!" Kurt called after her, stealing the rum bottle from the table and handing it to her. "Take this with you."

She left with that and a giggle and Kurt was so very tempted to remind Blaine where they were, but instead he only stood up and took a copy of 'The Great Gatsby' from the bookshelf, beginning to read it.

…

The day had proved itself to be one of the longer days of Kurt Hummel's life so far.

He had spent a couple hours of the afternoon reading 'The Great Gatsby' lazily, and only to pass the time. Blaine had left when he was about halfway through the story, mumbling something about lunch and finding clues, and throwing Kurt one of those charming smiles as he slipped out of the door.

By three thirty he had finished reading the small book, of only one hundred and eighty pages. He stretched from his lazy position splayed on the couch, and stood up, running up to the guests rooms so he could tuck away 'Blackbird' and Blaine's journal. However, when he had stopped in front of their room, he paused, hearing a sort of yelling from the Asian doctors.

Kurt curiously stepped over to press his ear hesitantly to the pair's door, biting his lip down in question.

It was the male; Mister Black who spoke first, yelling at Miss Peacock about some nonsense, "I had a dream, Tina, maybe you refuse to grasp that concept because you're only concerned about your own damn feelings, but I never wanted to be a doctor!" He shouted, sounding like he had thrown something.

"I _understand_." Miss Peacock- Tina, apparently- hissed back, with a tiny yelp after what sounded like a chair was thrown. "What I don't understand about your dream is why it causes you so much anger and why you can't find one fucking place to put it instead of your own wife!" She said, her voice beginning to quiver. "I loved you, I believed in you but I _can't_ anymore, Mike."

"Then leave me. You know I messed up on Misses Schuester's surgery on purpose? I did it because I was angry about my dream. I'm a bad person." Mister Black listed off as he threw what sounded like a glass toward Tina. "What are you waiting for, woman? Leave me!" He shouted, a yelp coming from the girl as she was grabbed.

As he heard heels clacking against the floor, wordless from inside, Kurt slipped in to his and Blaine's room, his eyes widened slightly as he tucked the two books away. It was always the quiet ones, wasn't it? However angry Mike was, though, Kurt was almost positive Miss Daisy had killed him. She was sickeningly innocent.

Kurt walked out into the hallway as he had tucked the books away.

He was never really an affectionate person, but when he saw Tina weeping at the end of the hallway, clutching her stomach and burying her face in her arm as her makeup ran mercilessly in soft trails of cheap black down her face, he couldn't help it. He held his arms out to the girl.

Tina seemed a little hesitant, but after a moment she had sprung into Kurt's arms, weeping against his shoulder and sniffling, whispering a quiet 'thank you'.

He stroked through her hair, nodding and hushing her. "It's okay… it's okay..." He whispered, as the Asian girl cried on his shoulder, clutching him because it seemed she had nothing else to hang on to anymore. He knew the feeling. Now that he was in the mansion, with a little bit of a chance he wasn't getting out, he would hold her close and remind her that, "Everything is going to be okay."

…

At eight o'clock precisely, the day almost over, he ran down to meet Miss Scarlet in the theater as he had promised, spotting the small girl on the stage in the spotlight she had set up for herself. He rolled his eyes, good heartedly, and walked down to the stage to stand by her.

She greeted him with a tiny squeal and a big hug, plopping down and patting the spot next to her to signal for Kurt to sit on the edge of the stage as well.

He did so.

It was a while of gazing out to the theatre seats and looking around at the carvings and the details in the walls and the chandelier, and thinking to himself how wonderful this would be if not for the death that Rachel's light, shrill voice somehow made itself loud enough for him to hear it past his thoughts. What she said was simple, but Kurt would be lying if he said it didn't startle him.

"Blaine knows too much."


End file.
